


Never Had the Chance to Learn What Real Love Is

by avienexjel



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gaslighting, Heavy Angst, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt Tony Stark, M/M, Physical Abuse, Protective Steve Rogers, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Self-Esteem Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:33:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29145240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avienexjel/pseuds/avienexjel
Summary: There had been a time – way back when – when a little smile used to cross Tony's face any time Ty was mentioned. Sometimes people would even have to repeat his name twice, three times, to drag his attention back to the conversation at hand and away from the memories of Ty bringing him roses, taking him on vacations as a treat, kissing him gently with a mouth soft and sweet. But now…He knew that if Rhodey were here, his old friend would tell him to leave and go find a new boyfriend or get a job or something. And that's exactly why he couldn't leave – because if he left now, people would ask why it took him so long. And if he left now, well, he wouldn't have anybody.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Tony Stark/Tiberius Stone
Comments: 8
Kudos: 60





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings for domestic violence, gaslighting, physical/emotional abuse, sexual coercion, and some explicit sexual content (not overly graphic) in this chapter.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't have any experience with domestic abuse shelters/safehouses, and it was difficult to find any detailed personal accounts of such places - so please forgive me, or feel free to inform me, about any inaccuracies you find (there are probably many). Do also keep in mind though that this is a fanfiction, so there may be some deliberate departures from reality.
> 
> In terms of Tony's relationship with Ty, however, I do draw from my own life a bit when discussing Tony's reactions to and emotions about the things he suffers. So I'm not making, and wouldn't want to make, any overt assumptions about the way he thinks or behaves, or how someone in his situation might think or behave.

Tony had tried to get help before.

Once, just once.

Back when Ty had only hit him a couple of times, not often enough to leave but still enough to say something about it, he had gone to Obadiah. Soggy from the rain and looking like a drowned rat, he stood on Obie's doorstep in the middle of the night and rang the doorbell, praying his godfather would let him in. His head was pounding; he could taste the copper tang of blood on his teeth, although when he spit, the saliva was clear. A wine-colored bruise ringed his eye like poorly-done eyeshadow.

"Tony?" Obadiah said as he opened the door. He gaped for a moment, his eyes traveling Tony's rain-soaked body before flicking up to his face. "What happened? No, you can tell me later – come in, come in."

Tony stepped into the threshold of Obie's little brownstone. The heat hit him like a blast, and he was wracked with a violent shiver. 

Obie was already bustling around, fetching blankets, boiling tea in the kitchen. He prodded Tony gently over to the couch. "You sit down, Tony. You're in no condition to be walking around right now."

Tony sat down wordlessly, although his knuckles were white as he took the blankets from Obadiah and clenched them tightly to his chest. The house was silent for a few minutes except for the whistling of the pot. 

Finally, Obadiah finished the tea and brought two mugs over, handing one to Tony, who accepted it gratefully. "You want to tell me what happened now?" Obie coaxed him, except in the way he always asked questions, where it almost sounded like an order.

"I…." Tony looked away.  _ Stark men are made of iron,  _ except instead of sucking it up, he was here, at Obie's, in the middle of the night.  _ Pathetic.  _ "It's…."

"Don't rush," Obadiah advised him. "Take your time."

"I'm sorry, Obie," Tony muttered, curling up in the blanket. God, this was so stupid. Why had he come here in the first place? He wished fervently that he could've gone home, but he wasn't sure what kind of comforts that would've afforded him. Where the hell was home, anyway? His parents had passed away years ago, and the Stark mansion had been empty since then. He normally considered "home" the apartment he lived in with Ty, but he couldn't possibly return right now.

Something strange flickered in Obie's eyes for a moment. Tony decided it must've been a weird glimmer of the firelight reflected in that pale blue gaze. "My boy," Obadiah said companionably, leaning back on the couch next to Tony. "What have I told you? Never apologize."

The silence expanded like a bubble between them. Tony opened his mouth, but he didn't know what would come out – or if anything would come out at all. He didn't know how to say it without looking like a pussy, a weakling, one of the  _ victims. _

He took a breath. It wasn't tattling; he just. Wanted to know. What Obie thought.

"Ty hit me."

The confession didn't garner the reaction he had expected. Obadiah's eyebrows rose slightly, but he didn't look all that surprised. "Tiberius hit you."

Numbly, Tony nodded. "He's – I mean, it didn't...it didn't hurt that bad. He didn't mean to, he was just mad." In the back of his mind, he knew how whiny and defensive he sounded. Why had he even come here again?

Obie nodded. "Well, Tiberius can certainly be rough sometimes." He placed one large, heavy hand on Tony's shoulder. "But some people bruise more easily than others. Genetics, as I'm sure you know. You're okay, then, aren't you, my boy?"

"Well, yeah," Tony said after a moment. He was always okay; that was the correct answer. Never mind the funny feeling in his gut. Never mind the intense fear he'd felt when Ty had finally lunged at him with a hand ready to strike. He was just spoiled like everyone said. He'd never faced real pain, so of course he'd think something as stupid as Ty snapping for one second might be serious.

"Good." Obie stood from the couch and brushed his hands against his pants. "Remember, Tony – some people go through much worse than a little spat. This is the first time it's happened, isn't it?"

Tony nodded silently. He'd taken a few slaps in the past, but never anything like this.

"See?" Obie chuckled. "There we go. Not even a spat but the first lovers' quarrel. Nothing to worry about."

"Okay, Obie," Tony said softly. Maybe he was overreacting every time Ty yelled at him? Maybe they hadn't ever really fought at all, and it was just his sensitivity rearing its head. Honestly, he'd probably had rougher sex; some of his previous partners had been into that.

Obadiah patted him gently. It was a fond, paternal action and Tony unconsciously chased after the heat of Obie's palm after his godfather removed his hand. Howard had never provided the kind of affection that Obie did – hell, Howard had never even been half as nice as Ty was, flying Tony out to the Bahamas and always paying for dinner.

He shook his head as Obie went to the kitchen to fetch more tea.  _ No more dramatizing everything, Tony,  _ he told himself sternly. Tonight he'd go back to Ty and apologize. And then maybe they could have a little date night all to themselves or something.

If even Obie, who'd always shown up for him when Howard didn't, thought that it was no big deal, then it definitely had to be no big deal. After all, Howard had used to hit Tony sometimes – and he was  _ nothing  _ like Ty. Ty was warm, and sweet, and kind, and passionate; and it was his passion that sometimes drove him into a fury. He wasn't a drunk, and he certainly was never cold or calculating. 

So, yeah, it was probably his fault then. Not the punch itself, but it was his fault for driving Ty to that point. 

Curling deeper into the couch cushions, Tony pulled the blankets firmly around his shoulders and thought about what he would say when he went home to apologize.

Everything was normal when Tony returned to the penthouse. Ty forgave him easily, and they fucked for awhile in the brand-new bed that Ty had hand-picked himself. He took extra care with Tony's face, brushing the sore area around Tony's eye almost possessively as he dropped little kisses onto the tender skin there. "Put some makeup on that tomorrow, hm?" he whispered into the crook of Tony's neck.

"Mmhm." Tony gasped as Ty did something especially lascivious with his tongue. "Yeah. Okay. Definitely." There wasn't much talking after that.

After they'd cleaned up and gone to bed, Ty pulled Tony to his chest and curled one muscular arm over Tony's midsection. "You're mine, baby, and I love you. You know that, right?"

Tony smiled to himself in the dark. He  _ loved  _ the way Ty did that – spoke so casually, as if loving Tony were the easiest, most obvious thing in the world. The sky is blue, and clouds are white, and Ty loves Tony. "Yeah," he murmured softly. "Yeah, I know."

Ty sighed. Tony felt it like the ghost of a hand on the back of his neck. "I get mad sometimes, you know that. But it's only because I care about you. Seeing us fight, seeing you make bad decisions for yourself, it makes me go crazy. I want to protect you, baby. I don't want anyone or anything to be able to hurt you."

"I know," Tony said quietly. "I'm sorry."

He curled back into the warmth of Ty's chest, settling down as he listened to the sound of his boyfriend's steady heartbeat. The events of this afternoon seemed almost like a half-forgotten dream now; he'd washed the blood from his teeth in the sink and Obie had given him a bag of frozen peas to put on his eye. 

And now he was at home, which was more of a home than any other place he'd ever been, with legs tangled around his and a mouth at his ear in a luxuriously warm bed. As he gazed out at the night sky beyond the penthouse window, studying all the stars that somehow came together to form constellations, he felt luckier than he had ever been.

**1 MONTH LATER**

Tony whistled as he picked up a bouquet of flowers from a local florist shop. He loved the chill of the air inside, the bright lights, all the beautiful colors of the flowers decorating every inch of the floor and walls inside the market. Today was Ty's and his two-year anniversary, and they had a lot to celebrate even beside this large milestone. Boeing had promoted Ty to CFO recently, and that meant he was making nearly twenty thousand dollars more than he had been before.

He nearly skipped as he headed down the sidewalk toward the elaborate building that held their penthouse at the top. In his pocket were two tickets to tonight's Met Opera because Ty liked feeling classy. He had the whole night planned out in his mind already – they'd send for a limo, break out a bottle of aged Chateau, and then spend time teasing and touching each other in the audience like overeager teenagers. 

He was so lost in the daydream that he accidentally stumbled into a man with blond hair and a muscular build who was rushing in the opposite direction on the sidewalk. The man looked frazzled, and his face contorted in irritation as he looked Tony up and down. His expression seemed bare of any recognition, but he was scanning Tony's three-thousand-dollar Armani suit and twenty-thousand-dollar IWC Portugieser watch with a critical eye.

"Sorry," Tony said automatically. "Excuse me."

The man snapped his mouth shut and the crease between his eyebrows smoothed out a little bit, but he gave no response other than a tight "Sorry, in a rush" before hurrying off again.

Tony raised his eyes as he watched the stranger's back recede down the street. Even flustered, the blond man had been quite attractive. But anyway. He had Ty to get back to – his anniversary wouldn't wait. 

A smile bloomed on his face as he imagined the way Ty would grin slowly, crookedly at him. And the way Ty would whisper, "Let's fuck instead," and Tony would have to drag him to the opera while they both tried to hide their laughter. 

Reaching the expensive brownstone in which they lived, Tony bounded up the steps and entered the lobby. "Hey, Larry," he greeted the doorman kindly.

"Ah, Mr. Stark," the older man said with a warm smile as he stepped smoothly into place beside Tony and pressed the elevator button. "A fancy night ahead of you, perhaps? Or apology flowers?'

"Our anniversary, actually; and I already told you, Tony's fine. You're making me sound old."

"Well now, I wouldn't say old...yet," the doorman teased, and Tony couldn't stop the laugh that escaped him as the elevator doors closed.

As the elevator rose, he couldn't help but feel apprehensive. His grip tightened around the long green stems of the flowers as he watched himself in the watery reflection of the doors. He was dressed sharply, in a suit and tie, but sometimes Ty thought he looked boring. Other times, Ty said he was too casual, too slutty. Was this right for a two-year anniversary? Shit, shit. Last year, Ty had laughed at him, said he looked like a whore because he'd left the top buttons of his shirt popped out and his slacks were too tight. But then Ty had cupped Tony's ass and drawn him in that night and said he looked sexy as fuck in the outfit he'd chosen to wear.

Tony lifted his chin. What the hell had he to worry about, he looked fine. Before he'd met Ty and become somewhat of a recluse, he'd had tons of men and women alike eyeing him in bars, on the streets, in town. Granted, that was years ago, but he was still young and spry – he was thirty two, for God's sake. Plus, he was a Stark, and Stark men were made of iron.

As he stepped up to Ty's penthouse, he took a deep breath to steady himself before knocking on the door. 

No answer.

After another few knocks, Tony fumbled for his cellphone. Ty had said he was home, waiting, so what was the hold up?

_ He's probably in the bathroom or in the shower, you idiot,  _ he swore at himself silently.  _ Don't be clingy. _

_ I'm home,  _ he texted, and then put his phone away. Even though Tony had moved in at the same time as Ty and had his own set of keys, he'd left them inside today. Ty said it was annoying and impersonal to have Tony just burst in on his own time – "It's so much sexier to get to open the door and see you waiting for me, babe," he'd said.

Finally, there was a fumbling noise on the other side of the door, and a moment later, Ty was stood there in front of Tony without a shirt and his pants unbuttoned. "Hey, baby," he said, looking Tony up and down speculatively. He tapped a finger against Tony's exposed collarbone. "How about you take that off entirely, huh?"

"You don't like what I'm wearing?"

Ty smirked and glanced away for a second before returning his gaze and running his tongue over his bottom teeth. "Don't be an attention whore, you look hot as fuck. I want it off so I can see the rest of you."

Tony smiled as he stepped into the penthouse and held out the flowers for Ty to take. "I bought you lilies. Your favorite."

Ty flinched back from the bouquet like it was on fire. "What the fuck, Tony?"

"What?" Tony said. He stepped back, unsure whether or not to feel hurt. "What's wrong?"

"I'm  _ allergic  _ to lilies," Ty hissed pointedly. "Really? You couldn't bother to remember?"

"But you – " Tony scrambled to recall their last conversation about Ty's allergies. He could swear, he  _ would  _ swear, to God that Ty was allergic to, hell, that he wasn't even allergic to flowers. Ty had only ever spoken fondly about lilies. "I thought – "

However, Ty was already turning away, the upset clear on his face as he shook his head. "It's fine. You know? It's fine, Tony. I thought you'd remember the most basic things about me, but clearly not."

Tony felt the familiar heat pricking the backs of his eyes and focused tightly on a scuff mark on the wall instead of his boyfriend's irritated face. 

"I'm sorry," he said at last, because there was nothing else he could say.

There was a sigh. "I guess it's fine." After a pause, a small smile appeared on Ty's face. "It's nice that you bought flowers to commemorate our anniversary."

"And to celebrate your promotion," Tony added tentatively.

Ty tugged him in for a chaste peck on the lips. "If we  _ both  _ didn't have a job, I wouldn't be able to take you out anywhere, hm?"

"Paris was really nice," Tony said wistfully, thinking back to their most recent trips. "And Greece. And Japan…."

Ty swiped his thumb over Tony's bottom lip. "I've got a surprise waiting for you in the living room. You're going to love her."

"Her?"

"Mhm," Ty whispered lowly. He gazed at Tony with something dark and hungry in his eyes. "We're going to have fun tonight doing what you're best at."

In the living room was a beautiful woman stretched out on the couch. Her long, dark brown hair spilled out over the pillows and she wore nothing but a lace bra and panties. Her legs were kicked up over an armrest and she opened her eyes slowly, lazily, as she caught sight of Ty and Tony standing in front of her.

"Hey, gorgeous," she purred at Tony as she arched her back on the cushions and raised her arms delicately over her head. 

"Ty," Tony said slowly, all the puzzle pieces slowly clicking in his head. Ty's missing shirt, his unbuttoned jeans; the woman on the couch…. "Explain."

Ty rolled his eyes. "Relax, babe," he said. "I paid her to come over and give us a good time. You like having fun, don't you?"

"Well, yeah," Tony said. "I just…. Couldn't we have fun by ourselves?"

"But I'm always fucking you," Ty replied, a hand tracing the swell of Tony's ass. A thumb slid under Tony's dress shirt and brushed against the warm skin above the waistband before slipping underneath. "I want to see her ride you."

Tony already knew that Ty was a bit of a voyeur, but something low and sick settled in his gut nevertheless. "Did you guys...do anything before I came home?"

Ty shrugged. "A little bit, but I wanted to wait for you. I was sucking on her tits but I just kept thinking about how much I wanted you."

Tony shivered. The way Ty spoke was so blatant, so brash; and yet, that's what had always made him such a charming man. Not to mention, sexy as hell. Tony wasn't going to count his blessings.

"I'm Sunset," the woman said, rising fluidly from the couch. She reached out a pale hand. "Sunset Bain. It's lovely to meet you, Tony. Ty's told me many good things about you."

"Oh, good," Tony said after a brief moment of startled hesitation. "I'm glad he hasn't, y'know, mentioned my horrible cooking skills or anything yet."

Sunset laughed. It was a sharp but pretty laugh that seemed to ring through the air. "Oh, look at that. Ty didn't tell me you were funny. I only heard that you're exceptional with your mouth."

"You'll see," Ty interrupted with a slow smirk as his gaze fell to below Tony's eyes. "I love his mouth, and I don't love things easily."

"Come here, Tony," Sunset purred, trailing a hand from his chest to his waist. "I'm going to show you a good time tonight."

"Ty, I don't – " 

"Oh, shut  _ up,  _ Tony," Ty snapped, his tone dark and ugly, but when Tony jerked his head to look at his boyfriend, Ty's face was clear and amused and open as the sky.  _ He's just joking, get over it.  _ "I always make sure you have fun, huh? How about you do a little something for me once?"

_ He's right. What do you even bring to your relationship, huh? All you do is sit around like a good little housewife, waiting for your boyfriend to come home so you can put him in a bad mood. Why don't you just be a good guy for once, Tony? Can't you just be a good person for long enough to make Ty happy? _

"Okay," he said slowly, clearing his throat as Sunset grabbed his tie and pulled him in roughly. She raked her gaze over him closely, her eyes as pale green as stems of grass but with something darker, fiercer, roiling underneath.

Their mouths met in a hot clash. Sunset bit his lip, hard enough to draw blood, and slid her tongue along his even as she was smoothly undoing the rest of his buttons on his shirt. Tony fumbled to unbuckle his pants as Sunset licked a strip up his neck, sucking hard enough to leave what was sure to be a hickey by morning. 

"I want you to eat her out," Ty said hoarsely, and Tony's gaze darted over to see Ty watching them, his face heavy and lips parted, his pants already down and around his ankles. "Don't be shy, Tony, you know how much of a slut you are."

Tony obliged, but even as he went through the motions – he knew what women liked, he knew what to do to make them feel the best and feel the most – he felt numb inside. There was no hunger in him beyond the general admiration of a woman as beautiful as Sunset. And Ty was clearly enjoying watching them, his breathing heavy and sharp as he stroked himself, but Tony – Tony wasn't – 

Well. It didn't matter what Tony wanted. He had to make Ty happy, and happiness had to come with sacrifices sometimes. Relationships were about compromise. He just had to remind himself to stop being so selfish.

He felt rough, warm hands at his waist and stilled. Something slipped underneath the curve of his ass, and he felt something leak down his thighs that couldn't have been from him.

"My turn," Ty said lowly, his breath hot in the crook of Tony's neck.

Tony kept his eyes open even as Ty fucked him, first brutally in the mouth and then, later, in the ass. It was hot, sure, and he'd had plenty of sex in the past, but there was something decidedly not arousing about Sunset watching them.

Maybe Tony  _ was  _ too reclusive. Before Ty, he'd gone out to parties all the time, had had his fair share of orgies – hell, he was sure he had sex tapes up on the Internet. But then he'd started dating, and he stopped flirting with and fucking other people, and now he was just...not the guy Ty had fallen in love with. Maybe that was why he felt bothered now – he'd become a different person. He wasn't who he used to be. 

Okay, then, he had to be better. For Ty. So he let out moans when appropriate, and pretended to orgasm even though Ty hadn't prepared him enough tonight and it just felt too dry and rough and it just hurt and it was all  _ wrong.  _ And the whole time, Sunset was on him, over him, using the mouth that Ty liked however she wanted from the other side. It was hard to breathe, even, with her body stifling him, and then Ty in him and not stopping, but he shut his eyes tight and enjoyed it. Sex was what he liked – and, yes, what he was good at. Yes, he liked it. He loved it. (And the question he shoved to the back of his mind: but did he love this?)

After Sunset left, Ty drew him close on their couch and brought their foreheads together. It was a surprisingly sweet and intimate gesture, and Tony allowed himself to admire his boyfriend's beautiful long lashes, the way Ty's eyes were a strange mix of grey and green. Gorgeous. And his.

"How are you feeling?" Ty whispered searchingly. He rarely ever asked Tony that.

"I'm better than great," Tony murmured back. His heart swelled in his chest at the affection. "Are  _ you _ okay?"

"Mmm," Ty affirmed, tipping Tony's chin up gently. "Never been better. But you know what would make me happiest of all?"

"What?"

"If you took those pants of yours off again. Don't know why you thought you'd have to get dressed when Sunset left."

"Oh," Tony said, blindly fighting to tamp down the wave of disappointment that hit him out of nowhere. Of course – Ty just wanted more sex. His boyfriend clearly had a lot of pent-up energy tonight, and it was their anniversary. He should've seen it coming. "Well – I was thinking – I got us a reservation at Arno's, and I know you like Italian food, and – "

"No, baby," Ty said, his smile vanishing and leaving something icy in its wake.  _ "You  _ like Italian."

"Maybe we can still go out tonight," Tony suggested tentatively. "Somewhere else. You know, like, a night on the town."

Ty drew back. "Okay," he muttered. He wouldn't look at Tony, and that bothered Tony more than he cared to admit. "That's fine. It's all about what you want, right?"

"Ty, I – "

"No." Ty stood, his face blank. "This is what you want. We're going to go do what you want. Because I take care of you, don't I? I give you everything you need? And I provide everything for you? So let's continue the trend. Let me do this for you."

"Ty, it's fine, really." There was a sensation of something slipping from his grasp like a wet fish in bare hands. "Come here. We can still enjoy our night. Just the two of us here. We can stay home."

Ty looked away. "Fuck, I'm not even into you right now. You've spoiled the mood."

"I'm sorry," Tony whispered. His voice cracked. "Come on, don't be like this. We were having fun, and now you're mad at me – can we just enjoy our anniversary?" It'd be lying to say he wasn't irritated on some level. He'd put a lot of work into this night, and then Ty didn't seem to want to do anything with it. But also, he knew he was selfish; and he couldn't exactly expect his boyfriend to go along with plans he hadn't known about. Not to mention that Ty always put in more to their relationship than Tony did.

For what seemed like an eternity, Ty stood there, his expression stony, his mouth a stiff line. Then something seemed to physically ease in his body and his shoulders relaxed. "Alright. Alright. Let's enjoy it together, huh? How about I order in some Chinese takeout and we can watch a movie. How about that, Tony?"

Even though Ty's voice had softened, Tony still chanced a glance at his boyfriend to make sure Ty looked as kindly as the way he sounded. Sometimes he couldn't tell… 

Being abnormally bright had its perks, but it also meant that Tony was sometimes slow at grasping basic social cues. His mind was always working overtime, jumping to conclusions and seeing things that weren't there. Or, sometimes he just blanked on the details entirely, skipped right over what everyone else saw – and then everyone assumed he was being a douche when he genuinely hadn't picked up on whatever he was supposed to. 

So to think that he was just reading Ty all wrong wasn't such a far stretch. He'd done it plenty of times, and while Ty had always been gentle in his admonishment, Tony always felt awful by the end. He was never good enough for people because he just didn't...fit right. All his life he'd stuck out like a sore thumb – even at seven years old, when he went to boarding school for the first time, no one wanted to be his friend since their parents all hated the stuck-up little kid who bypassed their own children in school. And even as he grew older, and he found a rare few people who could keep up with, if not match, his intellect, they always left, too  _ exhausted  _ to babysit someone like him. 

But Ty looked relaxed, his shoulders at ease and his face a cool blank mask. Tony let out the tension he didn't realize he'd been holding inside him and smiled as Ty sat down beside him on the couch, dialing into his phone for the food. He curled his feet under Ty's thighs and tried to pretend like this is how it had been all evening: safe, warm, slow.

"How about we watch something we both like, hm?" Ty hummed as soon as he'd ordered their favorites from the local takeout place down the block. "Something sickeningly, idiotically cheesy."

Tony hid his smile. "Are you suggesting teen romance movies, Ty?"

"Of course not." Ty rolled his eyes. "Now why would I ever choose something so abhorrently ridiculous?"

_ "Greasy, Dirty Dancing, 10 Things I Hate About You  _ it is!" Tony said gleefully. Ty pretended to hate romance movies, but when the going got rough, they'd always cuddle up together and watch the movies they proclaimed to hate. "No one can hate  _ Grease.  _ You can't call it ridiculous."

"Go ahead, tell me what I can and can't say," Ty said, and for a moment Tony drew back, but then his stupidly slow brain recognized the warm tone of Ty's voice and the amused look on his face. 

"Maybe I will," Tony huffed in mock-exasperation, and he got up to hunt for the disks as Ty shifted around on the couch.

When he returned, Ty drew him into a warm embrace, nuzzling into the side of his neck. "Who's better looking, hm? Me, or John Travolta?"

"You, duh."

"That's," a kiss, "what," another, "I like to hear." A pause, and Ty's hands skimmed lower for a second before pulling back up. "Happy anniversary, Tony."

The movie started playing, but Tony wasn't even paying attention anymore. "Happy anniversary," he murmured back, and he felt so warm, so  _ safe  _ in that moment that it was like everything else could just fall away – 

And he was brought sharply back to reality when Ty struck him in the face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony struggles to cope and Ty takes him to a gala.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for physical/verbal abuse and vivid descriptions of a panic attack. Also the panic attack scene gets pretty rambly... At some point there I just started venting about the way I felt when I was going through some tough times so it just stretches on forever...

He stumbled back, mind still half-stuck in the way life used to be only six months ago, even as his cheekbone throbbed and his arms rose to cover his face.

What had happened to the sweet, suave, charming man that Tony had started dating? The one who brought him roses and bought him rings and liked his body, even back when it was still kind of soft.

Maybe he was gone forever. Maybe...maybe he'd never been there at all….

But no. Ty could be a sweetheart when he wanted to be. It was probably Tony who'd made him like this, Tony who'd driven him over the edge.

Ty raised his hand and Tony flinched back. His heart thumped painfully in his chest; he felt rigid and frozen. Ty dropped his hand. 

Tony kept his arms over his head, because he knew this game. As soon as he lowered his guard, Ty would go for him again. And that was the worst part – it wasn't the hitting, really. It was never the hitting itself that made it bad. It was more that _Ty_ was doing it, and the horrid fear of it – you never knew when it was coming, what would trigger it, the messy rush of anger, the violent rage.

 _Why don't you fight back?_ he'd asked himself initially. But he looked at Ty and couldn't do it. Some part of him knew, secretly, that he deserved every bit of hurt he got. And he couldn't lay a hand on the man he loved. Because the most unstoppable kind of fighting was fueled by anger. And Tony...Tony wasn't angry.

He didn't know what he was.

Distantly, he felt ashamed of himself for being such a coward. A coward for being so scared, yes; but even moreso, a coward for wanting to leave.

He couldn't go to his mama. She was dead. And he hadn't talked to any of his friends (well, he had only had two) in years. He had nobody but Ty anymore, and maybe Obie, but he couldn't burden his godfather with his foolish need for validation. He used to think that he didn't need anyone else but Ty, and he still believed that to some degree, but sometimes…. Sometimes it just felt overwhelming. Like a black hole.

He was bordering on a panic attack. His heart was fluttering like a rabbit's, his breath was coming in short, sharp pants, Ty had his hands in the air again – you know what else was funny? Tony always tried to protect his head at all costs. It came first, even before his hands. Without his brain, he was nothing. But no matter how much he curled his body around his head, trapped it with his elbows and forearms and hands, Ty would find a way to hit him there anyway.

After what felt like an eternity, Ty put his hands down again, but you couldn't trust that he'd stop. That was a rookie's mistake. Tony learned from his mistakes.

The world felt like it was juddering all around him, his brain still stuck in a whir of shock. Sometimes he went numb and it felt like nothing to him. Other times, it felt like someone was ripping something out of him, something essential to life, something deep inside him past all the physical, and he'd spend the rest of the week thinking about drinking and then drinking and trying to hide it from Ty. 

Or he would just get a panic attack, like he was getting now, and no amount of counting the green things in the room would calm him down.

"You sicken me," Ty said with eerie calmness, and then he turned and left the room. And then the penthouse – Tony heard the jangle of keys and then the nearly anticlimactic slam of the door.

Tony experienced his first ever panic attack when he was nine. At the time, he'd thought it was asthma, or something. But it was the worst kind of asthma, because no one had told him that it felt like drowning. He didn't realize till he was twelve that what he'd been experiencing were panic attacks, and then everything sharpened with a startling clarity – that's what people meant when they said "fear." That fear that feels like an itch everywhere, all over your body, but there's literally no way to scratch it. That's what it felt like. This all-encompassing, suffocating, obliterating thing.

Holy fucking shit! He couldn't. Calm. Down, and his mouth was bleeding, which made him think about Ty, which made him start crying.

And then he was shuddering on the floor and staggering from wall to wall and the fear just wouldn't stop, and he opened his eyes wide and blinked hard at the bright (sterile) lights of the penthouse. _Breathe!_ he kept telling himself. _Breathe!_ But then in order to reassure himself, he would say that the hitting was nothing and he deserved it, and that was somehow worse than saying he didn't deserve it. So then he would just start crying all over again. And then right as he was calming down, he knocked over a lamp and it fell on the floor with an awful crashing sound, and despite the fact that it looked relatively untouched, it made his heart start up again rapid-fire and the whole world was falling down around him.

So then Tony thought to himself, _Maybe I should try immersion therapy._ He curled up on the ground and forced himself to imagine Ty hitting him and the visceral pain of getting struck, of Ty grabbing his hair and shoving him down and screaming at him, all this screaming. It made him cry harder, but surprisingly, it actually helped. A little bit. He started to calm. But he wouldn't stop crying. 

And then came the black hole – it felt like the hopelessness was eating up all of him. Like he was the last person on Earth and the sea was swallowing everything up and he was in the middle of everything. Whoever had come up with the cliche of hooks getting sunk into you and yanking was a genius, because honest to God, something was dragging out of him, from the spaces inside him he never shared with anyone else. His mind was breaking and he was choking on his saliva and eating his snot. And all this time the dead black thing inside him had hooks inside it and the hooks were trying to pull himself out of himself, which shouldn't have made sense but it was the only way he could think to describe the painful sensations writhing within him.

After an hour and a half, he felt sufficiently calm. Everything was on an edge, ready to shatter – his mental stability was teetering on a knife-point. At least he was alone, because he knew that if he talked to anyone right now, the walls would all come crashing down.

He missed Rhodey, his best and oldest friend, more than anybody else in the world, but he hadn't talked to Rhodey in ages. Not since a year after he'd started dating Ty, because Ty didn't like the colonel. And now, more than anything, he wanted to talk to Rhodey, but he knew he couldn't, and besides, his voice would get all wobbly and then so would his brain and heart and everything else. Seeing Rhodey would be like breaking the dam, which is why even when Tony was a kid, he always isolated himself when he was in pain. Talking to people he loved when he was hurt made everything open up unpleasantly inside him, encouraging a vulnerability he couldn't afford.

He laid on his back on the floor and licked the dried blood from the corners of his mouth. Both cheekbones felt bruised, but he doubted they had colored dark enough to show through some light concealer. Tony had started bruising more easily since he'd hit his thirties, but he didn't bruise _that_ easily. Usually only Ty's rings left dark enough marks to worry about. So he was fine. He wasn't even numbing out, was he?

It'd been years since he'd done anything more than drink, but as Tony reflected on the good old days, he thought wistfully that getting high sounded really good right about now. 

Stupidly, he reached for his phone to call Rhodey. His fingers were already dialing down the number he'd memorized by heart when he realized that Rhodey wouldn't even recognize the caller ID. Tony had changed his number to match Ty's way back when, and had never given Rhodey his new info – hell, Rhodey probably wouldn't even want to talk to him anyway. The colonel had tried so hard for Tony, first at MIT and then after Tony's parents died, and had kept trying to reach out even after Tony had started withdrawing from his life. Tony had ignored every single attempt at contact, telling himself that Ty was all he needed and wanted. 

Because he didn't _need_ people.

Except now he didn't even have Ty...and it was all his fault.

Fuck it, he was alone, so Tony let himself sink down to the floor, first to his knees and then onto his side like a baby. Then he cried.

It didn't stop after that. Instead, it kept getting worse. Ty was constantly snapping at him, yelling – and Tony wasn't sure which was worse, the yelling or the hitting. Was there such a thing as "worse" in this context, though? Maybe they were just two different types of bad.

But it didn't matter. He just had to be better…. And it wasn't like he was stupid. He knew that, to some extent, what Ty did to him was probably not what people in a happy relationship did. But Ty was the most important thing in his life, the only person who really and truly _cared_ about him.... And how could he possibly get mad when he deserved it?

So instead of thinking about how bad the hitting and yelling made him feel, and worrying about it, and feeling bad about it...he just. Didn't. He ignored the itch that told him to leave and never look back when Ty wasn't around, and tried to escape it when he was. After all, everything was fine. Tony was rich, he was in a relationship, he was loved; he didn't have to work, he had plenty of freedom, and he was healthy. He was living _the_ life – the kind of life everyone wants. He was fine.

Tony blew on his hands to warm them up from the outdoor chill as he stepped into his favorite coffee shop. He loved the shop for its general atmosphere of peace and quiet. This place wasn't for teenagers to pick up their frappes and dial friends on their phones; it was for starry-eyed writers, and elderly women, and men who wanted to sit and drink their coffee black.

If there was one thing Tony was grateful for, it was that Ty had taught him how to appreciate silence. He used to fill his world with sound, if only to combat the emptiness that'd filled him in his cold and lonely childhood home. Now, though...now there was a pricelessness to the quiet. He could be by himself and not worry about who or what would come next.

He picked a small table for himself and smiled softly at the waitress who approached him with his usual dark roast. He was a regular, and the workers here all knew who he was, even if only as "Tony," the unobtrusive local who often visited alone.

He thanked the waitress, Natasha, quietly as he cupped the mug in his hands. Midgard was the best coffee shop around, and even though there were definitely locations that were classier than this homely little place, it was still his favorite.

Instead of leaving this time, however, Natasha just smiled at him and pulled out the seat opposite. "Haven't seen you here in awhile. Where have you been?"

Tony smiled bemusedly at her. "It's been two weeks," he answered, trying to ignore how he'd basically quarantined himself in the penthouse till the faint bruise on his cheekbone went away. "I've been here and there. Busy. You know."

"Doing what?" Natasha leaned forward and, gently, wrapped her thin fingers around his wrists. Tony smiled bemusedly as she tugged until his hands were pressed firmly to the hot ceramic of the mug. Then she slid her own hands over his knuckles – her skin was warm to the touch. "Your hands are ice cold."

"Well, it's November. Bound to be a little chilly."

"You didn't answer my question."

"Just." Tony shrugged. "Making little trinkets and things. Hanging out with Ty."

"Ah, yes, the boyfriend, right?"

Tony twitched, and from the way Natasha's eyes darted briefly down to his tightened grip around the coffee cup, she hadn't missed his reaction at all. 

There had been a time – way back when – when a little smile used to cross Tony's face any time Ty was mentioned. Sometimes people would even have to repeat his name twice, three times, to drag his attention back to the conversation at hand and away from the memories of Ty bringing him roses, taking him on vacations as a treat, kissing him gently with a mouth soft and sweet. But now… 

His collar felt itchy.

"Yeah," he said carefully, and took a sip of coffee so that he could swallow down the sudden lump in his throat. "You remember. We've been dating for awhile."

"Yes, you've mentioned him." Natasha raised a slim eyebrow. Her eyebrows and eyelashes were a deep reddish brown, unlike her vivid bloodred hair. "When's the anniversary?"

Tony coughed and looked away. "Umm, last month." Desperate to change the conversation, he added, "What about you? You in cahoots with anyone?"

Natasha gave him a look, as if she could see straight into his soul and wasn't liking what she saw. "No, I'm not in _'cahoots'_ with anyone, Tony." Then she bit her lip, the most emotion Tony had ever seen from her ever, and tilted her head. "Well. It's complicated."

"Relationships are complicated."

Natasha inhaled and placed her hands on his. "You know," she said lightly, "if there's anything going on with – "

The doorbell tinkled all of a sudden, and two broad-shouldered men stepped through the doorway. Natasha's face changed instantly, from somber to something close to – pleased? Happy? "Steve, Bucky," she said, and Tony automatically tried to place the names _(was Bucky a_ name?) to the faces. Neither of them really looked like a _Bucky –_ he sort of imagined anyone with that name to be red-cheeked, potbellied, and generally dumb-looking – and they were both kind of too hot to be _Steve_. "Come meet Tony."

"Aren't you s'posed to be makin' drinks or mannin' the cash register?" the brunet said as the two men came over. He gave Tony a cursory look. "I'm James Barnes. Friends call me Bucky."

"Nice to meet you," Tony said hesitantly. He held out a hand, which James shook firmly. The blond – _Steve, then –_ elbowed James in the side before stepping forward and proffering his own hand. "Sorry, Bucky's kind of always like that. I'm Steve. Steve Rogers."

"You look familiar," Tony blurted, then blushed. "Sorry, I don't know why I said that – I don't think I've ever seen you before."

Steve smiled a little. "Do you ever go to the gym a couple blocks away from here? I might've seen you inside."

"No," Tony said with an embarrassed laugh. "I don't really work out. All the muscle I've built comes from working in the shop." "The shop" was less a shop and more an apartment building he sometimes came by to help repair for free, but Steve and James didn't have to know that.

"Oh?" Steve said. His face brightened. "Like, an automobile shop? Do you work motorcycles?"

Faced with Steve's sudden interest, Tony decided then and there that he was officially a mechanic and not the ultra-wealthy, jobless boyfriend of an ultra-wealthy CFO. "Yeah, sometimes," he said, because that wasn't even a lie. "Why?"

"I ride a Street 750," James interrupted, sticking a thumb out at Steve, "and this nerd owns a Kawasaki K1."

Tony felt his eyebrows go up of their own accord. "Harley-Davidson," he said, nodding at Bucky. "Solid." He then turned to Steve. "So you're into classics, huh?"

Steve's ears tinged a faint pink. "Yeah, I am. It's sitting outside on the curb, actually. Polished it up and everything – the guy who sold it gave it to me for only three hundred. It was a junk heap when I bought it, but – " A shrug. "I don't like to give up on good things just because they look a little rusty."

"Man after my own heart," Tony chuckled. He opened his mouth to list off all the classic cars he'd driven before remembering that he was Tony the Mechanic and was supposed to be earning a modest living. "I love it when people bring classics by the shop. I get to work on those babies for five, six hours. Pretty sure I enjoy it more than the money it brings to the table."

"If you could drive any car, what would it be?" Steve asked. He leaned his hip against the table.

Tony considered all of the beautiful, beloved cars he had ever tried out and bit his lip. They were all gorgeous, but there was one car in particular that he loved with all his heart. "1932 Ford Flathead Roadster," he decided finally.

"Really?" Steve grinned. "I pegged you as more of a Shelby Cobra kinda guy."

"Nah," Tony said, even though he did, in fact, favor the 1965 Cobra Backdraft. "Roadster's got flair."

"Okay, okay," Natasha said, waving a hand, "either stop monopolizing the attention of my guest or sit down."

Steve's grin broadened and he reached for a chair from the nearest table. James did the same with a roll of his eyes.

"More car talk later," Natasha said. "All I know is, the Camry I drive is shit. So, how are you boys?"

"We came to help out, actually," James said, gesturing around the small cafe, "but clearly you've got it all handled."

"What happened to Hank?" 

"Stevie here got us both fired." James rolled his eyes, but Tony caught the hint of fondness in them. "Can you believe?"

"Jesus Christ, you two. What happened?" 

"I – ," Steve started, but James interrupted him loudly with: "You know how Pym has a rule against people invading his lab time when he's busy on a project?"

"No way," Tony said. " _Hank_ Pym? Like, of Pym Technologies?"

James stopped and looked over at him. "Yeah?"

"That guy's, like, crazy." Tony fluttered his hands, trying to express how _his_ brain felt about _Hank Pym's_ brain. "Pure and utter beautiful genius crazy. I would never tell him that because, like, he would be a total dick about it, and I don't get his obsession with entomology at all – but he's done some great work in quantum physics. His research papers on the subatomic realm are so fascinating, I mean I kind of hate them too because they delve into areas of science that _do not_ obey the laws of nature _at all,_ but his work is potentially relevant to actual human life too – and imagine if he'd been a biologist instead – like if you inserted a tardigrade protein into human cells, you could totally – " Everyone was staring at him like he'd grown a second head. "Sorry, sorry. I tend to ramble a lot, it's, like, a habit – "

"Tony," said Natasha gently. Huh, she didn't look as exasperated as he'd thought. "It's fine. Just...don't expect any of us to understand."

"No, you don't have to understand," Tony blurted, feeling his cheeks heat. "Uh, I mean. It's cool if you guys just listen. Not that you have to, of course. I kind of...start talking to myself in the middle of conversations. Ty says it's really annoying."

"We like listening," Natasha said. "Right, boys?" Something that Tony couldn't quite interpret passed between Natasha and the other two men, and both Steve and Bucky nodded their heads quickly.

Steve opened his mouth – to say what, who knew – when Tony's phone suddenly started vibrating loudly on the table. Tony jumped, his heart sinking as he checked the caller ID. The screen flared awake with a picture of him and Ty with their noses bumping together, smiling gently. When Tony glanced up again, mumbling apologies to the table, he made eye contact with Steve. Steve's brow was furrowed and he was looking at Tony like Tony was a puzzle to be figured out.

"Sorry, sorry, I've – got to take this." Tony slid out of the booth and picked up the call once he was outside. He was sure he looked like an idiot, tripping all over his feet just to speak with his boyfriend, but Ty was _important._ And sometimes if Tony didn't pick up fast enough, or didn't pick up at all, Ty would get hurt and think that Tony didn't care about him…. Or he'd get angry – but Tony would not think about that, no no. Those kinds of thoughts led to something he didn't want to consider. _No point in chasing Alice down the rabbit hole, anyway._

"Hey, honey."

 _"Tony."_ Ty sounded exasperated, not angry, thank God. Shit, if he knew that Tony was here right now, speaking to three people – three universally attractive people – he would be so angry, and Tony couldn't let that happen. "Are you ready yet?"

"Ready…? I...did we have something planned?"

"Jesus Christ. Remember the gala dinner I told you about? For Boeing? That slip your mind?"

Tony's stomach was officially puddled somewhere near his feet. How could he have been so stupid? The gala was all Ty had been talking about lately – Boeing's way of sucking in more money for the company, Ty's way of showing off. Tony was expected to be present tonight, cleaned up, perfect, the model version of what the CFO's guest should look like. And, really, Ty didn't need another reminder of why he should date someone else. 

"I'll be ready. When are you going to be home?"

"In an hour," Ty answered, and Tony could've died of relief. An hour was enough time to get home, shower, and pick out an outfit if he worked quickly. If he were lucky, maybe he could even flag down a cab… 

"Okay. I'll see you soon. Love you."

"Be ready," was all Ty said before he hung up.

For a second Tony felt like he was forgetting something, but he ignored it in favor of pocketing his phone and striding briskly down the sidewalk, away from the cafe. His mind was already frantically trying to sort out all the things he needed to do – concealer, for example, he couldn't go to a Boeing gala looking as tired as he was. And gel, fuck, he needed gel for his hair too – and where had he put his nice watch – 

He slammed into the penthouse in record time and started stripping off his clothes. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he headed into the shower and almost tripped, because wow, the bruise on his ribcage was starting to purple and he looked so fucking deformed and ugly. But it was fine, fine. Because no one was going to be looking at his ribs anyway – which were much more prominent than they had been only a few months ago, but that was good, right?

He showered quickly, barely even feeling the hot sting of water against his skin. Shampoo ran into his eyes, which hurt like an _absolute bitch Jesus Christ_ but then he was out, toweling himself dry, and he still had to gel his hair and find a black tie. 

He checked the clock. _5:35._ Okay, yeah, he had time.

By the time it hit six and Ty's key was entering the lock, Tony was stood in front of the mirror, composed and calm, adjusting his tie. "Hey, babe," he said as he turned to greet his boyfriend with a chaste kiss.

"Hey there," Ty murmured against Tony's lips, his mouth hot and smiling. "You didn't wait up, huh?"

"You – you said to get ready." Tony stepped back and studied his boyfriend. "You – when did you have time to take a shower? Did you go to the gym?"

Ty combed back his wet hair with a hand. "Of course not, Tony. I actually work, so I wouldn't have time to go before the gala. I took a shower at Sunset's place."

"Sunset?" Tony said. "You mean – you mean the _prostitute?"_

"Sex worker, Tony, it's not nice to call people that," Ty chided. "You need to be respectful, even if you don't understand what hard work's like."

"Why were you even there in the first place?"

"What do you _think,_ Tony," Ty drawled in that bored, I'm-over-this way of his. He rolled his eyes and brushed past Tony, heading over to the closet. Ty was so tall that his shoulder knocked into Tony's temple as he went by. "Her place was closest to the office, and I didn't want to shower here in case you were still busy. Then you would've just been making me wait."

"Oh." Tony's voice was small. Of course, that made sense – and he knew, oh how he knew, that Ty's eye had a tendency to stray sometimes…. But Tony was just paranoid; he had no right to control every aspect of Ty's life. If his boyfriend wanted to go over to a friend's (friends? Were they friends?) house to shower, then Tony should just trust him. They had had issues in the past with lack of trust and lack of communication, and it had always led to bad fights, hurt feelings, etcetera. But Tony knew now that trust was a two-way street – in order for Ty to trust him, he had to trust Ty. "Sorry."

Ty shook his head and sighed. "It's fine." He turned and looked Tony up and down with a critical eye. "You ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be."

Ty wrapped an arm around Tony's waist and led the both of them out. He was a comfortable height, tall enough that Tony could rest his head on Ty's shoulder when they danced or hugged. Not that they had done that in awhile, but the difference in height usually made him feel...safe. Protected.

"Hogan, the gala," Ty ordered as they stepped out onto the sidewalk, greeting Ty's chauffeur from where he stood next to a sleek Audi idling at the curb. Hogan nodded briskly and opened the door for Ty to slide in, his placid demeanor shifting into something cold as soon as Ty's head had disappeared under the roof of the car. 

"You alright there, Hap?" Tony said with a frown as he followed Ty. The chauffeur's name was Harold Hogan, but he was such a spitfire at times that Tony had started referring to him as "Happy" as a joke. He didn't do it so much in front of Ty, because Ty liked formalities and fancy pretenses, but Happy didn't seem to mind.

Hogan's face seemed to warm up a bit as he looked at Tony. "Just dandy, Mr. Stark. Thanks for asking."

That was another thing about Happy. He insisted on calling Tony "mister," even though Tony had protested for ages that a less formal addressal was fine.

"Since when have you been so buddy-buddy with my chauffeur?" Ty asked. It was a simple inquiry, nothing out-of-the-ordinary about it, but Tony's stupid brain reacted nervously anyway.

"Oh, um, I'm not. I just see him around sometimes. Or we chat, a little, when you send him to come get me."

"Sure, chatting's all you do." The Lamborghini hummed to life as Happy turned the engine on from the front of the car.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Tony protested incredulously. "You think I'd ever cheat on you, Ty?"

 _"Honey."_ Ty rolled his eyes in fond amusement. "I never said that. You jumped to conclusions. And that's the most telling thing about you."

Tony bit his lip. "Well, I love you," he said almost stubbornly. "So. I wouldn't. Ever."

The next few minutes passed in silence until they pulled up at the gala. Happy sprung around the car to open the door for them, ushering the couple out with a wave. "Out you go, Mr. Stone, Mr. Stark," he said graciously.

"Wait for us in the garage," Ty said. "We'll be out in a few hours. Maybe pick up some snacks for us, right before eleven o'clock."

"Thanks, Mr. Hogan," Tony added.

"You two have a good night, now," Happy said, clambering back into the car. The Audi's headlights lit up before rolling away.

"Okay," Ty said, turning to his boyfriend. "Remember what you're here for."

Tony nodded. "Play nice, do what they want, direct them to you. Got it."

"What else?"

"Sorry, forgot that part. We're not in a relationship, we're just really good friends."

"Exactly." Ty pressed his lips against Tony's forehead for a brief second. "Let's go."

Boeing had booked the Met as their location of choice. Inside, gargantuan chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and men and women in beautiful dresses and exquisitely tailored suits milled around, sipping from champagne glasses and laughing merrily. Despite all the beauty and wealth on display, these events had long since failed to impress Tony. Instead, the scene only felt...empty. Cold.

For the next few hours, he made his rounds, first by Ty's side and then on his own. There wasn't much for him to do besides make small talk and then point to Ty, really – he wasn't important to the gala, much less anyone here. He was just a guest. Some people did recognize him, and others did pay more attention to him when he said he'd graduated from MIT and had, at one point in his lifetime, been both the chief engineer at Lockheed Martin and a Fellow, but as soon as they found out he had quit his job, they lost interest.

As he stood by the bar, sipping a Sazarac slowly in the hopes that people would think to leave him alone, a nasally voice said, flashing heat over his ear, "If it isn't Tony Stark!"

Tony set his bourbon down with a sigh – he'd recognize that grating voice anywhere – and turned to face Justin Hammer. Hammer was a pale-faced, weaselly man who constantly wore a smarmy smile and shifty expression. They'd worked together for some time at Lockheed, Tony as a Fellow and Hammer as a senior engineer, and Hammer had always been bitter with everyone who held a higher position than he. 

"I haven't seen you in years," Hammer exclaimed. "How has it been since you got fired?"

"I quit," Tony replied coolly, "which you very well know. And it's been lovely."

"I haven't heard your name around," Justin said. "Have you not been able to find a job?"

"I've been traveling the world. After nearly a decade of earning a Fellow salary, I decided that I want to see the sights before returning to work."

That cut something deep in Justin Hammer, and Tony could tell. The other man gave him a vicious glare and muttered, "Seems like a pretty aimless life to me."

"You still a senior engineer, Justin? You make your way up to principal yet?"

"Fuck you, Stark." 

"Who are you here with anyway?" Tony asked. "You're not part of Boeing."

Now it was Hammer's turn to preen. "This gala is for the top engineers of every arms company. My supervisor chose me to come here tonight. Who are _you_ here with?"

Ignoring how Hammer's supervisor seemed to have poor decision-making skills, Tony lifted his chin and answered, "Tiberius Stone. He's the CFO of Boeing and one of my best friends."

Justin shook his head. "Taking advantage of people who play favorites, Stark? That's pretty sad."

Tony just sighed. "Justin, I was a Fellow at Lockheed Martin for years. I haven't been to work in a few years but I still have good experience. I don't _need_ to take advantage." He ignored the niggling voice in the back of his head that said that Justin was right, and that he, no matter how unconsciously, was somehow taking advantage of his boyfriend.

With that, he downed the rest of his glass and flagged the bartender down for a cocktail, purposely turning his back on Hammer to show that the conversation was over.

Hammer lingered around for several more minutes before seeming to realize that he wouldn't be getting much else out of Tony tonight. He finally moved away from his awkwardly close position next to Tony and swaggered away, presumably to bother another poor attendee.

Even after Justin left, Tony stayed at the bar, just perched on a stool and nursing his drink. The gala was wearing him out far more than he had anticipated, and he looked around for Ty, hoping that his boyfriend, at least, was having some fun. There Ty was, at the other side of the room, smiling and laughing, people gazing up at him as he spoke at length. He seemed pretty at ease, his shoulders back, his chin raised, his intense dark eyes sparkling. 

Tony sighed again. He wanted nothing more than to go over, take Ty by the hand, and drag him out the gala, down the street, and all the way up to their penthouse where they could cuddle on the couch and put on a movie. But Ty was CFO, and he was the CFO's guest. He would be polite, and finish his cocktail, and then he would go out and try to strike up conversation with another guest.

The rest of the evening passed smoothly. By the time he had gone to the restroom for the third time, the gala was coming to a close. Wiping his hands on a towel and pushing the door open, he came face-to-face with Ty, who winked at him and beamed. "I was waiting for you. Ready to go home?"

"Look at you," Tony teased, his tension already unraveling at the sight of his clearly-happy boyfriend. "You have fun?"

Ty took him gently by the elbow, guiding him down the hallway. "Yes. But I want to talk to you about something in the car, okay?"

"Oh." Tony blinked. "Yeah, of course. Okay."

The Audi was waiting at the curb when they exited the Met. They slid into the backseat, exchanged pleasantries with Happy – "Did you have a nice evening, Mr. Stone, Mr. Stark?" – and then Ty turned to Tony, brushing a hand gently over the side of Tony's face.

"God, you look so fucking good." A soft kiss, and then Ty leaned back a bit, leaving Tony chasing for more before he realized what was happening.

"What did you need to talk to me about?"

"Listen," Ty said, and sighed. "Something happened at the gala."

"What," Tony said, and his voice cracked. He tried again. "What happened?"

"Don't worry, it's nothing that you need to get dramatic about," Ty said with a small chuckle. "It's just, you know, at these galas, your plus one is normally a wife, or a girlfriend, or something. And if you aren't in a relationship, well, you still bring a girl. Do you get what I'm saying, Tony?"

"I didn't tell anyone we were dating. I promise, nobody knows."

Ty hissed out at an exhale between his teeth. "Yeah, I know that, Tony. I'm just saying, it looks kind of weird to bring another guy to these things."

"It's not that weird," Tony said weakly. "We're just best friends. Guys have male best friends."

"Look." Ty leaned back and spread his hands. "I'm trying to be nice about it here, but you're not letting me speak, so I'll just go ahead and say it. I'm going to be bringing Sunset to these events from now on."

For a second, Tony said nothing. His brain sputtered like a battered exhaust. "Sunset?"

"I know you have something against her since she's a sex worker," Ty said, running a hand through his hair. "Honestly, I'm surprised and disappointed that you would be so judgmental. But she's beautiful, and it's okay for a woman to say she doesn't work. I mean, people asked me about you, and I tried to remind them that you used to hold a job, but...the kinds of people who attend these galas, they can be very superficial. I just don't want you to get hurt."

Tony wanted to be angry, he did. He certainly felt hurt. But when he examined Ty's argument, he could find nothing wrong with it. The people at these galas were snobby, and smart, and whomever Ty brought to the gala would reflect upon him. Sunset was hotter than Tony, and it was true that people made a bigger excuse for women who didn't work, whether or not that was wrong; and Sunset was also very charismatic, much more so than Tony. And he didn't _think_ he disliked her because she was a sex worker, but then, why else would he dislike her? It was okay for his boyfriend to have other companions beside him, and it definitely scared him that she could end up replacing him.... But didn't that mean he was only scared of her replacing him because of her sexual appeal? And her sexual appeal was only because of her profession, and her looks, which was innately unfair.... And Ty just wanted to protect him.

"Tony? Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yeah," Tony said quietly. "That makes sense. Thank you."

"Of course," Ty said, and kissed him on the lips, this time not pulling away. "I just want to keep you safe, baby – "

The car lurched abruptly, and Ty slammed into the back of the empty passenger's seat. 

"Shit!" His eyes wide, Tony reached out to touch his boyfriend before stopping. "Are you okay?" 

"What the fuck?" Ty snapped, touching his nose and looking at his fingertips. They were dry, no sign of blood. "Hogan! What the hell just happened?"

Happy met Tony's eyes in the mirror. Tony felt a chill when he saw how intense and unreadable that gaze was. 

"Sorry, boss," Happy apologized. "A cat ran out in front of the car without warning. I didn't want to hit it." He didn't break his eye contact with Tony.

"Jesus fuck," Ty snapped. He yanked at his previously-untouched seatbelt and aggressively snapped it over his abdomen. "God fucking dammit. Next time, just hit the damn thing."

"It would've damaged the car, sir," Happy said quietly as he put the vehicle into drive again and continued along the road. 

The rest of the car ride was silent, and when they finally reached the apartment, Ty was the first one out, slamming the door loudly behind him and not even waiting for his boyfriend as he stormed into the building. Tony sighed and reached for the handle, intending to follow, when Happy said: "Mr. Stark."

"What's up, Hap?" Tony said slowly.

"I'm sorry about the cat."

"It's fine. It wasn't your fault." Tony lifted his gaze to the rear-view mirror. 

Happy just shook his head. "It was," he said, enunciating each word. "And I'm sorry. He's in a bad mood now, int he. Listen, Mr. Stark – you ever need me, you just give me a call, okay? I can pick you up in my own car. It doesn't have to be under Tiberius Stone."

"Thanks for the offer," Tony said, puzzled. "But it's really fine. I don't really have a need to go anywhere that I can't walk."

"Or just for a drive," Happy said. "We can just drive around, Mr. Stark, whatever you want."

Tony thanked him again, knowing he'd never take Happy up on the deal – after all, Ty would be rightfully suspicious if Tony were to just go "driving around" – but feeling grateful for the offer anyway. He exited the Audi and took a deep breath before heading into the apartment building.

It took a couple of knocks before Ty opened the door. His face was stony. "What took you so long?"

"Sorry," Tony apologized. "Um, Ha – Mr. Hogan wanted me to let you know that he's really sorry about the incident on the road."

Ty snorted and opened the door wider, stepping aside. "I'm not pissed about that."

Once Tony had entered the penthouse, Ty crowded him against the wall, a teasing smile on his lips and his eyes dark. "How about we end this evening on a good note, huh? I had a great night, so let's keep it this way."

Tony withdrew. "I'm.... I don't know, I'm kind of tired."

"Tired? Didn't I see you flirting with Justin Hammer all night?"

"What? No, that's – c'mon, Ty, that's disgusting, I'd never – "

"Relax." A hand on his waist, inching lower and lower. "I'm just messing with you. Hammer is a disgusting piece of shit."

Tony drew in a breath. His body was struggling to get aroused, but he was just so tired. It didn't matter though, he normally bottomed, he could just lie there and let Ty have his fun. Sex wasn't difficult. You just had to flip over and spread your legs.

He could feel Ty's smile against his lips as he leaned in. "That's it, Tones. God, I could fuck you so many times."

"Bedroom?" Tony whispered. Sex was like second nature. Hell, he'd lost his virginity to Ezekiel Kline when he was fourteen, and Zeke had been four years older than him.

"Read my mind." Ty took him by the hand and dragged him toward the bedroom.

On the bed, Tony closed his eyes and pretended that he was about to fall asleep beside his lover even as Ty prepared to fuck him from behind. If he emptied all his thoughts out, his mind would quiet like white static on a TV, and his body would feel like nothing. 

It hurt, because Ty had thrust in with little prep, and Tony turned his head to the side and let himself white out. He counted each squeak of the bed springs until his boyfriend had finished, and then he kept counting numbers until Ty got off the bed to go wash up.

He laid there until it was his turn to use the restroom. In the shower, he cleaned himself methodically, under the armpits, under his ass, under his chin. The little nooks and crannies like the places between his fingers and toes. When he looked down under the running water, he felt repulsed by what he saw. There was the bruise on his ribs, brutal ugliness in its dark splash of color. 

He didn't look back down at himself for the rest of the shower.

Once he'd toweled himself off, he dressed in a tee and boxers and crawled into bed with Ty. Ty was already asleep, or at least looked to be, so Tony just curled up on his side of the bed and fought off the sudden urge to cry.

It had been a good day, nothing bad had happened, and yet. There was some wanting feeling left, like waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or maybe it was just that this was the best it would ever get.

Tony knew he was lucky, and privileged, and that he should be very, very happy to be where he was at. And yet, lying on that bed in the dark next to the man he loved, he could find nothing inside him but guilt and shame for not being able to appreciate what he had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning - Tony has to endure around three more chapters of Ty's abuse before the fic really starts moving along.... Just wanted to let you all know in case you find it tiring. I just felt like getting Tony out of his situation too quickly wouldn't really add up so I slowed the pacing down a lot

**Author's Note:**

> I do actually already have a few completed chapters, so it'll be weeks before my updating schedule starts to peter out again haha... For those of you who have read some of my other works, you already know that I'm not particularly adept at keeping to a schedule or motivating myself to write. In fact, I actually wrote this first chapter way back in 2019. Oof!
> 
> For those of you looking for fics along the same vein as this one (abusive Ty/Tony to Steve/Tony), I HIGHLY recommend this fic: Nothing Here is as it Seems by SkywardGeek. This one's very good as well - Lord, What Fools These Mortals Be by iam93percentstardust. They're both definitely worth a read.


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